"She'll eat you out of house and home."
Makes much more of a commentary on the importance of environment in a child's upbringing than you'd think. Absolutely poignant stuff in less than a hundred words, or something like that.
"She'll eat you out of house and home."
Makes much more of a commentary on the importance of environment in a child's upbringing than you'd think. Absolutely poignant stuff in less than a hundred words, or something like that.
"Don't call me Ratatouille."
There's no shortage of "rizz" or being "sus" in this slangy new adaptation of an historically butchered comic book franchise, but Hollywood finally managed to make a pretty, pretty dope Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. Slam dunk.
A direct comparable to The Mist from Darabont's own filmography is The Walking Dead series, in which, very similarly, the initial man vs. nature conflict morphs into more of a man vs. man conflict just because... humans are complicated beings, I guess, is the bottom line of it.
Well, the supernatural stuff is top notch. No question. The creatures aren't overexposed and, when they are, look absolutely horrifying. The whole ambiance surrounding the mist evolves into something you just want to get…
"You're not even a shadow of Peter Pan."
It's overly silly, sure, but that's probably due to the large amount of Peter Pan memorabilia that's in here and and that ends up to be very endearing, anyway. Adult Peter's character arc is clunky, too, but I couldn't help but smile at some of the "a-ha, that is him" moments that Hook provides.
To live is, in fact, a great adventure on its own, and there's certainly no shortage of sequences that remind you of just that in this one.
Kogonada's style and manner are exquisitely calm and beautiful to watch, as was the case in Columbus, but After Wang is just conceptually frustrating, as it only scratches the surface of these really interesting themes it sets out to explore. AI's capacity to catch and express feelings? Barely touched on. The parents' efforts to be present for their grieving daughter and organize a family dynamic based on their own presence around her? Even less. Just void, in a lot of senses.
Man, this is just very, very good. Super raw and visceral performances from everyone involved. The violence is overflowing, with some scenes unfolding so quickly and abruptly that you practically feel the need to grasp for air.
Anton Yelchin's paintball story may go down in cinema history as one of the greatest speeches never executed. What a great talent and a most tragic loss.
"But know this—the ones that love us never really leave us."
Truly the best movie of the saga, and you can very clearly notice the change in directorial style from the get-go. The early Knight Bus scene, for one, is a perfect example of Alfonso Cuarón taking control of a fun and gimmicky moment and giving it an additional sense of purpose in the context of the story. As Harry is squished and ragdolled up and down the bus in…
Beyond the dark and tragic hilarity of McDonagh's style, there's always a satisfying sense of morality inhabiting his scripts, as if the story is always destined to come full circle, clearing its characters of their misdeeds and, at the same time, justifying their blamable actions in a very sincere, sometimes necessarily cliché, approach (thinking of one specific Brendan Gleeson speech encouraging Colin Farrell's character to search for a meaning to his life, here).
"It's like a fairy tale, isn't it,…
"You know, a person can get really sick of just floating by."
Wasn't as impressed with the loose and effective adaptation of Dostoyevsky's concept as I was with the environment Ayoade throws his characters in. Bleak, grim, utterly dispiriting—reminded me a lot of Lynch's Eraserhead. From there, you can easily conceive how a man like Simon James, devoid of any liveliness, can spiral down a rabbit hole of bureaucracy and dehumanization, to the point of losing every ounce of individuality.
Swann: "Smart, aren't you?"
Wendice: "No, not really, I've just had time to think things out, put myself in your position."
An incredibly effective and precise crime thriller, Dial M for Murder doesn't stand out because of the ingenuity of the killer's plot—although its specifics would certainly perplex, at least for a moment, Hercule Poirot himself—as much as it does by its eagerness to reveal all the details in advance... while still managing to keep the viewer in a state of…
"Il y aura pas d'autre fois."
Sciamma deals with grief by imagining alternatives to the pure and striking tragedy that comes of it, offering its victims time and opportunity to find closure. In this case, eight-year-old Nelly gets a chance to not only reconnect with the memory of her recently deceased grandmother, but to strenghten the relationship with her own mother, a woman overtaken by the swiftness of life. It's a beautiful but grave portrait of the pleasures of childhood, unapologetic for the sadness children are unavoidably forced to experiment.